


Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Ravyn Imyan’s Performance

by DirtyScrolls



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Acting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass-eating, Blackmail, Brynjolf is Clueless, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Exploitation, Fantastic Racism, M/M, Manipulation, Mention of Necrophilia, Morag Tong, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Thieves Guild (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyScrolls/pseuds/DirtyScrolls
Summary: The Dragonborn arranges a long-awaited meeting in the Cistern.
Relationships: Brynjolf/Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Ravyn Imyan, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ravyn Imyan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Dragonborn and Ravyn Imyan





	Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Ravyn Imyan’s Performance

**Author's Note:**

> You might want to read my other Dragonborn/Ravyn Imyan stories first to get some context, but it’s not strictly necessary. Hope you enjoy!

“He likes it nice and hard,” Kordin told Brynjolf in a low voice, as they sat in a dark corner of the nearly-empty Ragged Flagon one afternoon. “Likes you to really use that lovely grey ass of his. Good luck for us, right? He might be standoffish at first—even shy—sometimes he’ll protest a little, play the innocent—but, trust me, he loves getting it rough.” Kordin smirked. “Being ordered around. You know the kind of thing I mean.”

Brynjolf looked happy to hear his Guildmaster’s words. His grey-blue bedroom eyes glinted, his grin wide and a little drunk. 

“Lucky thing I occasionally like to give it that way,” he laughed, setting his mead down, then thinking better of it and lifting it to his pretty lips for another sip. He assessed Kordin, his eyes brightening even more. “Maybe someday you’ll find out firsthand.”

“Maybe,” Kordin said, laughing in turn. “This time, I think I’d just like to watch you two.”

His unusual encounter outside Windhelm came back to his mind, and he felt his face turning red, remembering himself bound, naked, and desperate. Parts of his body were still sore, but the encounter had been a frequent subject of his masturbatory fantasies lately. And Teldryn Sero had suffered more of his attentions than usual since the incident, not that the mer had minded. 

“Oh, a voyeur? Kinky.” Brynjolf stroked Kordin’s knuckles. “Hope I can be hard enough on him. What does he like in particular, lad?”

“Last time, I had him on his knees,” Kordin said, feeling heat rise in him as he remembered Imyan looking up with his intense red eyes as he took his lush mouth, “Shoved my cock down his throat. Then I fucked him right into the wall. And the time before that, he was on his back. Tied his wrists down, put those long legs up on my shoulders. Damn, if he isn’t a tight mer. Tough too. He can take a lot. And he has sensitive nipples.”

“Did I ever tell you you have excellent taste? How is he at sucking cock? Beautiful mouth on that elf. I’d love to try it out.”

“A natural. And experienced.” Kordin moved toward his colleague, close enough to kiss. “He’s not gonna tell you this kind of thing himself. He doesn’t like to talk, except to snipe. He’s a Dunmer, after all.” 

This assessment of Imyan’s race and laconic manner was an exaggeration, almost too obvious. But Brynjolf nodded, a little glassy-eyed. 

Kordin was glad Brynjolf didn’t know the new man well. Due to the latest popular scam he was running, he hadn’t been much paying attention to the recent recruits, except to notice that he liked Ravyn Imyan’s “dark, sharp, good looks” (as he’d put it). He was probably thinking mostly with his prick right now. 

“What else isn’t he gonna tell me?” Brynjolf’s eye sparkled with lustful curiosity, which made him look highly attractive to Kordin. For a human.

“Oh, a lot of things.”

“You’ll come see me in the Cistern in a quarter hour,” Kordin ordered, leaning down beside Ravyn Imyan at one of the tables. It was evening now. The Dunmer had just come back from a job, and he looked ready for a rest. Too bad—he would have a long night ahead of him. 

Kordin spoke low and hot into the tapered ear. “Try and clean up first, but not too much. I want you to taste good.”

He made sure, as he always did before he was to be alone with Imyan, that his best available dagger—this time, ebony with an ice enchantment—was well-sharpened. 

Then he walked behind the carved screen around his bed to wait for him.

In the middle of tearing off Ravyn Imyan’s armor, Kordin stopped to push himself against the partially-clad body, crowding the slighter man down onto his bed. 

The mer was splendid today. Disheveled and smelling of faint sweat and leather, just a hint of oil in the damp hair. 

Though the Dunmer was only half-naked, Kordin was unable to resist being close to him any longer—reveling in his warmth, the fragrance of his light sweat, his lean limbs pressed down under him. It had been awhile since he’d had any time to give his favorite ex-Morag Tong agent his special brand of attention. 

“Shor’s bones, your scent,” the Listener whispered into his neck, after brushing his nose over his armpit. He nipped the smooth skin of his earlobe. He pinched his armor-covered biceps and ran firm hands over his bare thighs. “Makes me hungry. I missed this beautiful body so fucking much.”

He kissed his prey’s dour mouth. The mer had done nothing except nod and respond in monosyllables since he had been summoned from the Flagon to his Guildmaster’s sleeping area, but he never dared resist Kordin’s touch.

Kordin wondered if, one day, he would try that again. 

Wicked scenarios flickered through the Listener’s mind. He imagined the dangerous grey beauty chained to the wall in the Dawnstar Sanctuary, bare, beaten, and awaiting the keen, fatal caress of Kordin’s blade. He thought about Imyan limp and bloody. About fucking him as he lay completely open to it, leaving him splayed, dirty and dripping. Offering him to whomever wanted him next. (He had a feeling Nazir might know how to properly appreciate a handsome, freshly-slaughtered grey-skin, even if he only got sloppy seconds.) 

He kissed Imyan’s soft throat, sucking lightly.

“Got something to tell you, gorgeous,” he murmured into the mer’s pretty ear.

“And what’s that?”

“Brynjolf wants to see you tonight.” 

“For what?”

Kordin almost laughed. He stroked the elf’s drying hair lightly, kissed his cheekbone, then his mouth. 

“To fuck you, of course. He wants his hard cock in your hot Dunmer hole.”

“He told you this?” Imyan’s arched brows furrowed, his face pinkening a bit. 

Kordin cupped the back of his head, combed his fingers through his hair. His voice was serious. “Yes, he did. And you’re going to let him have you. He’s your superior in the Guild, and, besides, I want to see it happen. I wanna watch you take his cock.” Kordin kissed the side of his mouth. “Make him happy. Let him dominate you. It’ll be just like playing a part in order to get to a target. I trust you can figure it out.”

“I--” Imyan breathed hard as the Listener brushed a hand lightly over one dark sensitive nipple, making it immediately perk up. “I don’t have a choice, I know--”

“No, gorgeous, you don’t have a choice.” Kordin looked hard into Imyan’s blood-red eyes. “Better be a good whore for him, if you don’t want to disappear. You can do the shy, reluctant thing first, up to you. He should be here any minute now. Let’s get you stripped.”

Brynjolf slipped behind Ravyn Imyan and tentatively massaged his bare neck and shoulders. Imyan leaned into Brynjolf’s hands, almost as if he were grateful for a kind touch.

Despite their earlier discussion, Brynjolf seemed determined to start things off soft and charming. The Nord thief spent several languid minutes just kissing the black-haired Dunmer’s neck, deeply but tenderly, squeezing his shoulders, pausing to ask, “Do you like my mouth on you like that?”

“Yes... yes, I do.” Imyan looked down as he spoke, but his shoulders moved against Brynjolf’s hands.

“You’re quiet, lad. I’d like to hear you more.”

Kordin met Brynjolf’s eyes from where he sat in his chair beside the bed, cock in hand.

“Or do you want it a bit less gentle? Hmm?”

Brynjolf switched tactics, moving Imyan on the bed so he was looking down at him, pinning his arms, pushing his broad shoulders down to the mattress, kissing him with eager force.

“This is… very good, sera,” Imyan said, his voice huskier. 

“Oh, you like to be under me?”

Kordin had been worried Brynjolf would notice the mer’s lack of true interest, but the act and the partial erection Imyan usually got under duress seemed enough for him. 

“Yes, I do.”

“I wanna fuck you so bad. I’ve wanted you for awhile.” Brynjolf looked into Imyan’s slanted scarlet eyes, then laid a firm swat on his naked thigh. “If you want me to do it, turn over and let me eat that ass.”

Kordin’s heart rate went up.

Imyan moved fluidly, turning face-down. 

Brynjolf parted the ex-assassin’s buttocks as smoothly as he would have picked his pocket, and began ravenously lathering the dark crack of his ass with his tongue. Biting the dense cheeks every so often, he muttered things like “Gods, lad, you taste good”, and “What an amazing ass”. 

Must have been starved for flesh, or maybe his redheaded colleague found the quiet, sour Dunmer just that irresistible.

Finding him irresistible too, Kordin’s mouth filled enviously with drool, even as he enjoyed the sight of Brynjolf’s enjoyment, the shameless self-indulgence of it. He pumped his erect cock with his right hand.

Imyan writhed at the hungry ministrations of Brynjolf’s tongue and lips and teeth. Brynjolf was buried deep in the dark cleft, nose and mouth rooting in it. 

Kordin resisted the urge to grab his long red hair and direct him. The redhead was doing quite well on his own. But he wanted to touch one of them, so with his free hand he petted the former assassin’s long sculpted back, massaging the small so that Imyan dipped down and thrust his buttocks into Brynjolf’s face. 

Brynjolf responded with a moan into the grey cheeks, then drew back, parted the wet ass further with his large hands, and continued to lick, nibbling the inner places just around the hole. Imyan made sharp breathy sounds. Kordin felt a bit jealous he’d never heard that needy noise from his Morag Tong slut before. Perhaps he’d eat his crack out like this next time. Slurp him like a salivating dog and bite his tender flesh.

His lower face covered in spit, Brynjolf pulled back and knelt behind Imyan. He gave him a hard spank on his damp ass. Imyan jumped. Kordin stroked himself a bit slower, watching them intently.

“Hands and knees.”

Imyan obeyed, which didn’t stop Brynjolf from giving his ass another smack.

Brynjolf crawled around so that he was kneeling in front of Imyan. He opened his pants to reveal a very girthy pink member, fully erect. It was longer than Kordin’s generous equipment, and definitely thicker, to his mild annoyance.

Brynjolf sank a hand into the mess of Imyan’s hair and pulled his face toward his cock, rubbing the head over the Dunmer’s luscious lips.

“Get me wet,” he ordered. “Wet and ready for your tight little hole.”

Imyan again did as he was told, his eyes closing as he allowed Brynjolf to guide his head and slide his prick between his full grey lips and into his open mouth. Kordin thought of what his colleague must be feeling right now, with his prick in that hot soft wet cavern. After a moment, the elf made a slight choking sound.

“Too much for you, lad? Take it slow, now, that’s it.” Brynjolf laughed good-naturedly and caressed one of Imyan’s pointed ears, pinching it lightly. Imyan took in another inch or so, then another. After a moment of adjustment, Brynjolf began fucking his face, deeply but carefully, keeping a hand in the thick dark hair. “That’s good, elf. Open your throat... I know it’s big for you.”

Imyan’s mouth stretched around the other thief’s shaft. He made a gurgling noise as Brynjolf pulled out, then slipped back in again, his red pubic hair brushing Imyan’s nose.

“So good, lad. Keep it up,” Brynjolf sighed, pumping smoothly into Imyan’s throat. “Just like that.”

He continued to use Imyan’s face, sometimes pulling back and looking down to say something encouraging or praise the mer’s sweet mouth. Kordin could see it in his face when the pleasure became too much. Brynjolf eased out of Imyan’s mouth, stroking his hair approvingly, as if he were a well-behaved animal.

“Mmm, wonderful job.” He leaned down and gave him a long open-mouthed kiss. “You took it in deep. But I think your ass is gonna need more attention before I can fit my prick inside that little dark hole. Gonna need more than spit.” Brynjolf brought out a vial of oil from a pocket in his armor. He tugged on the Dunmer’s ear again, which made Kordin twitch with arousal. “Turn around and stick it up in the air. Legs spread.”

Imyan turned around, then looked back at Brynjolf, widening his glittering ruby eyes eyes a bit.

“Your fingers are so big, sera. Not sure I can take it.”

“It’ll hurt more the longer you make me wait.” Brynjolf rejoined, smiling, placing a hand on Imyan’s lower back.

Imyan dipped his back, ass raised up on offer as Brynjolf steadily smeared his pucker with oil and worked him open with thick, patient fingers. He brought pained grunts from Imyan as the second finger slid home.

“You OK, friend?”

“It hurts, but you can--”

Brynjolf removed the second finger. “I’ll go slowly, but I think you can take it. I know you’ve been fucked well before, haven’t you?”

“I have, but--you’re just… so damn big.”

Kordin had to hand it to Imyan—he had the right combination of fear and want in his voice. Perfect whore. That, along with other skills, often made for a great assassin. 

“I know it’s big. I’ll stretch you out good. Here.”

Brynjolf inserted his second finger again, made scissor motions, resulting in gruff cries from Imyan.

“Don’t worry, lad, you can handle it. Ass up, now. Good.”

Eventually, the ginger-haired Nord had Ravyn Imyan groaning while he fucked him, the oil making a squishing noise as his cock penetrated Imyan’s upraised ass. Brynjolf was obviously hitting the right spot inside him, if his sounds were any indication. He was pulling his hastily-washed hair, and biting his neck. He licked his pointed ears a few times, to Kordin’s delight.

“Slow down, sera, it’s--”

“OK, lad. But you’re taking it well.” Brynjolf ran both hands down Imyan’s back to his hips. “Gods, you are just... fucking sultry.”

Imyan was indeed sultry, writhing under Brynjolf’s thick insistent cock, making half-pained noises out of Oblivion, his grey face and neck suffused with an attractive blush, his hair a mess.

“I’m gonna stroke your fine cock, lad.”

Imyan was hard, Kordin could see. It was long and curved, nothing like the nervous half-erection he usually got. Again, he felt envious that Brynjolf had managed to get him so excited. Or perhaps Imyan was thinking of something else entirely, and this was part of his act. 

Kordin wondered just how often he had played the slut with targets in his previous line of work. 

What a way to die, under Imyan’s cunning hand.

“Yes, please.”

“Call me ‘sera’ again,” Brynjolf ordered, thrusting into him.

“Yes, please, sera.” 

Sithis, he sounded almost like Teldryn Sero. Kordin licked his lips.

“Yeah,” Brynjolf said, taking Imyan’s cock in hand. “Keep calling me that. Show some respect. You may be much older than me, but I’m in power over your sweet ass here in the Guild, which means I get… the benefits of your experience.” Brynjolf smiled widely.

“Yes, sera. Please. Touch me.”

Brynjolf licked his hand, then lightly yet quickly jerked him, getting Imyan harder and redder, even as he continued his incursion into his strained passage. Encouraged by Imyan’s reactions, Brynjolf began to speed up. His face was the picture of sensual pleasure, eyes locked on Imyan’s flexing back and round tight buttocks, lips parted and wet.

“You should come on his ass,” suggested Kordin, “All over it.”

“As you say, Guildmaster.” He pinched Imyan’s ear, as he seemed to like to do; Kordin didn’t blame him. “What do you think of that, lad?”

“Come--” Imyan’s words caught in his throat as Brynjolf rammed into him, “--wherever you like, sera. Inside me, on me. Wherever you like.”

Kordin smiled at the words and the tone, at how well Imyan was selling it.

Brynjolf slid his cock in and out of Imyan in a sharp, hammering rhythm, as he pumped the other man’s shaft.

“I want you to come first, elf. Wanna feel your hot seed on my hand. You’re dripping already. Like me to fuck you hard like this? Bet you’re going to walk funny. Everyone will know someone’s been inside your hot ass.”

Imyan whimpered in response. Brynjolf slipped his hand over the head of his cock. This made Imyan whimper again, higher. 

He picked up his pace as he stroked Imyan. Then he seemed to remember Kordn’s remark about the Dunmer’s nipples. He moved his hand from his cock to lightly pinch one of them, making Imyan squirm into him. He alternated between playing with the ex-assassin’s tender nipples and caressing the length of his prick. Finally, Imyan made a sound of near-agony and his muscles slackened. Brynjolf had drawn his orgasm out of him. Kordin felt another spark of jealousy.

The redhead pulled gently out of Imyan’s ass and used his hand, covered in the Dunmer’s come, to give himself the few tight pumps it took to bring his own climax. As he masturbated, he stroked Imyan’s shoulders and back. Then white streaks kissed along Imyan’s spread grey ass, painting his cheeks, cleft, thighs, the underside of his balls, and the small of his back. Brynjolf pulled away, satisfied, his hand on Imyan’s ass.

“That was fucking delicious, lad. Need a hand, Guildmaster? Or a mouth? I’d be more than glad--”

“No, no, I’m close,” Kordin said, jerking so hard his hand was a blur, looking at the come stains along the back of Imyan’s collapsed body, at the catlike Brynjolf as he stretched out beside the mer, his armor still open. When he came, it spurted across his hand and onto his cuirass.

Brynjolf climbed off the bed and took Kordin’s hand in his. Slowly, he lapped up the cream with his pink tongue. Then he kissed the corner of Kordin’s mouth.

“Thanks for your help with him,” he whispered, almost inaudible. 

Kordin rested on the bed and watched Brynjolf savor his afterglow with the fucked-out Dunmer thief. The redhead lightly licked the come from Imyan’s back and rear-end, pausing to lay open-mouthed, lingering kisses on his smooth grey skin. 

“You were so good,” he said, moving his kisses to Imyan’s throat. “Such a great fuck. By all the gods.”

“Thank you, sera.” murmured Imyan—again sounding pleasingly like Sero--allowing himself to be gathered into Brynjolf’s arms. Brynjolf held him like he needed to do it, rubbed his shoulders and back, and continued to lightly kiss his neck. Imyan limply allowed it.

“No, I should thank you.” Brynjolf kissed Imyan on the lips, then his cheeks, “Hope I can get to know you better after this. Maybe sample that fine body again. Maybe you’d like to do the same to me.”

Imyan closed his eyes and let Brynjolf nuzzle beneath his ear.

“Maybe,” he said, quietly. Seemed like he was trying for coyness.

“Tired?”

“Yeah, you wore me out.”

“Oh, did I? Hope it’s a good tired.”

Brynjolf remained with his arms around the nude elf for a few more moments. 

Then he rose, kissed both Imyan and Kordin on the lips, shook himself, and told them that he had to go check on something with Vex, unfortunately. 

He thanked them both again, gave his winning smile, and left the Cistern.


End file.
